


things that drift away

by ceteiq



Series: "and a place to rest my head" [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Abortion, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Child Loss, Forced Abortion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceteiq/pseuds/ceteiq
Summary: A ficlet based on my fic "and a place to rest my head," for the prompt:Something at Szymon’s inn while Rian was a baby(In which Rian is three months old, and Jaskier is pregnant again.)
Series: "and a place to rest my head" [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719994
Comments: 31
Kudos: 190





	things that drift away

**Author's Note:**

> i asked for prompts on tumblr related to my fic "[ **and a place to rest my head**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097559/chapters/55259602)" and this is for the prompt: "Something at Szymon’s inn while Rian was a baby." obviously it's gonna be sad.
> 
> many thanks to [starlitfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitfics/pseuds/starlitfics) for beta-reading this!
> 
> timeframe: set at szymon's inn, about three months after rian's birth
> 
>  **WARNINGS!** omegaverse, mpreg, male lactation, physical abuse, vomit, implied underage rape, implied underage sexual content, forced underage prostitution, past underage survival sex, discussion of abortion, forced abortion, and pregnancy loss

It's dawn, and Jaskier is lying in bed, exhausted. There's cum drying in his hair. There are bruises forming on his thighs. And the smell of the alpha from last night hangs heavy in the air, the scent of lust and fermenting mulch.

Jaskier sighs. At least his heat is ended, he tells himself— his second heat ever, and his first since giving birth to Rian. It had been horrific: a week of neverending pain, of days spent fucking himself on his fingers and nights spent lying in a puddle of his own slick, getting knotted by alpha after alpha. Alphas will pay double to fuck an omega in heat, so Szymon— eager to make as much coin as possible— had whored him out two or three times each night.

But anyway, that's all over now. His fever is gone. The feeling of desperate need has abated. And last night he'd only had to put up with one customer, even if it _had_ been a particularly sadistic one.

Jaskier reaches over and pulls his sleeping infant son a few inches closer to himself. Rian doesn't stir, of course— he won't wake up for another hour at least, not until the sleeping potion wears off.

Jaskier talks to him anyway.

"Hey, Rian. I hope you're having good dreams," he whispers, stroking the baby's downy little curls. "Papa's pretty tired this morning. And he hurts just about everywhere." Jaskier pauses, then goes on: "So I think I'm gonna take a little nap. But I'll be right here, okay? I'll wake up if you make the tiniest peep, don't worry."

He kisses Rian's head and curls up beside him.

***

When he wakes up an hour later to the sound of Rian fussing quietly, sunlight is pouring in through the dingy window and there's a new scent in the air.

Jaskier sniffs. It's faint, masked slightly by the lingering odor of alpha, but it's unmistakable: something like peaches and milk.

And Jaskier goes very still. Because he knows that scent, intimately: it's Rian's scent. Or at least, it _was_ Rian's scent, when Jaskier was pregnant with him.

Which means—

"Fuck," breathes Jaskier, lifting a hand to his belly.

He must be pregnant again.

It makes sense, he supposes. Omegas are incredibly fertile during their heats, even if they're _not_ being knotted multiple times a day. He really should have expected this.

But he hadn't. Honestly, he'd been too busy enduring the constant pain and the endless alpha cocks to give any thought at all to the prospect of conceiving a child.

"Fuck," he says again.

Then Rian starts to whimper.

Jaskier pulls off his shirt and picks him up quickly, lifts him to his chest.

"There we go," he murmurs, as Rian latches on and starts to suck. "Is that better?" He rubs Rian's tiny back and lets out a sigh.

 _Pregnant_ , he thinks, again and again. _Pregnant pregnant pregnant_. He wonders, briefly, which alpha it was, but that doesn't matter, does it? What matters is that there's a baby inside him, minuscule right now, but they're going to grow and grow and eventually emerge as perfect and beautiful as Rian.

Jaskier clutches Rian a little closer, and smiles in spite of himself at the thought.

***

The rest of the day goes by in a blur.

After Rian falls asleep again, Jaskier leaves him on the bed and goes downstairs for breakfast, terrified that Szymon will be able to smell his pregnancy. When he was pregnant with Rian, it had taken a good month or two before anyone else could smell it. But still.

Luckily, Szymon seems unaware.

He laughs at the cum in Jaskier's hair and demands a blowjob before giving him a wet rag. Then he throws together Jaskier's meager breakfast— a few unwashed carrots and the dregs of yesterday's stew, little more than cold broth at this point— and sends him out of the kitchen.

Jaskier eats slowly, his mind on the baby. What if Szymon makes him leave? He let him keep Rian, but two babies might be more than he's willing to put up with. Besides, once Jaskier starts to show, he won't be very useful as a whore.

He sighs, and tries not to worry. If this pregnancy is the same as his last, he has at least a month before Szymon suspects anything— which gives him a month to plan how to persuade Szymon to let him stay.

***

That evening, just before putting Rian to sleep, he shares the news.

"Rian," he says. "You're gonna have a little sibling; can you believe it?"

Rian gurgles a bit, then breaks into a gummy little grin.

"Yeah," laughs Jaskier. "That's exciting, huh?"

He wiggles his fingers against Rian's stomach and Rian coos.

"Oh honey. You're gonna be such a good big brother," Jaskier tells him. "And the two of you will play together, and keep each other company..." He sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes.

Then he dips the tip of his finger in the bottle of sleeping potion and sticks it into Rian's mouth. Rian sucks at it. "Goodnight, honey," says Jaskier. He lifts Rian into his arms and holds him close. Rian kicks his legs happily for a moment, then starts to go limp. His head lowers to Jaskier's shoulder.

"Sleep well," Jaskier whispers. He wraps Rian's little body— naked save for a diaper— in a ratty old towel, and gently places him under the bed for the night.

Briefly, he imagines having to drug _two_ babies, having to stick _two_ babies beneath the bed.

It's not exactly a pleasant thought, but Jaskier will manage. He'll make it work. He always does.

***

Two weeks pass, and Jaskier vacillates endlessly between anticipation and fear.

Mornings, as he nurses Rian, he finds himself rehearsing what he'll say to Szymon once he can no longer hide his pregnancy.

 _I can still work_ , he'll tell him. _I did plenty of business on the streets until I was seven or eight months along. Some people get off on fucking a pregnant omega. Besides, if you kick me out, you won't make_ any _money off me anymore. Even a little money is better than nothing, right?_

_And the baby won't be any trouble. Just like Rian isn't any trouble. You barely even see him, do you? I'll take care of them both without any help. They'll stay in my room._

Sometimes it feels useless, and he clutches Rian closer and tells him that they'll be okay, even if Szymon kicks them out and they end up on the streets again.

Other times he lets himself hope that it'll work, that Szymon will be convinced.

***

One day he dreams he has ten children, each one skinnier and dirtier than the last. He dreams of feeding them sleeping potion, one after another, and pushing them under the bed. 

He wakes up shaking.

It was just a dream, he tells himself.

But it feels more like a foregone conclusion, maybe even a best-case scenario. And that's what terrifies him.

***

He doesn't give up through. He can't.

When no one's watching, he runs his hands over his stomach and hums to the baby. When he lies in bed during the day, he talks to them. 

"Baby," he whispers, one afternoon, a month into his pregnancy. "I love you. I know you're very small and can't understand a word I'm saying, but. I really do love you. No matter what happens, I promise you'll always have me, and your big brother, and we're going to take care of you." He pauses. "And you know what? Szymon will come around, okay?" he adds then, his fingers splayed over his belly. He closes his eyes and sighs. "Szymon will come around, and we'll be just fine."

And he tries, very hard, to believe it.

***

A few days pass. 

It's night, Rian is asleep, and Jaskier is cleaning tables in the common room when he hears Szymon ring his stupid little bell.

He hurries over to where Szymon is standing beside a tanned, muscular alpha.

"Here he is," Szymon simpers, shoving Jaskier forward. "Our lovely little Dandelion."

But the alpha takes one look at Jaskier, sniffs, and scowls.

"Are you kidding me?" he asks. "He's fucking pregnant. You think I want to fuck an omega with some other alpha's brat inside him?"

For a moment, Szymon is silent. Then he wheels around to face Jaskier. "Is this true?" he hisses.

Jaskier shrugs, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Of course it's true," says the alpha. "I can smell it on him."

"I smell nothing."

"You're just a beta." The alpha shrugs. "Now, if I could have my payment back, I'll be on my way. Thought this place'd be cheaper than a brothel, but I guess you get what you pay for, eh?"

Szymon inhales shortly and hands over the bag of coin, his face red, his hand trembling with rage.

The alpha snatches the pouch and leaves.

As soon as he's gone, Szymon takes a step closer to Jaskier.

"You fucking cunt," he snarls, slapping Jaskier across the face. "You thought you could keep this a secret from me?"

"I didn't know," Jaskier lies.

"Like hell you didn't. I'm not a fucking imbecile; I'm well aware that omegas can smell their own fucking pregnancies. _Fuck_." He socks Jaskier in the belly.

"Don't!" yells Jaskier. "Please." But Szymon just punches him again, and again, until Jaskier collapses to the floor, his abdomen throbbing in pain.

"What _fucking_ use to me is a pregnant whore?" demands Szymon, towering over him.

"I can still work," Jaskier sobs. "I swear. On the streets people still fucked me, even though I was pregnant, please—"

"Yeah, and what'd they pay you?" Szymon puts his boot on Jaskier's chest, pinning him to the floor. "Twenty orens?"

Sometimes even less than that. "Please," Jaskier whimpers. "Please, even twenty orens is better than nothing, isn't it? Please don't make me leave. I can still make you money. Please."

Szymon's eyes narrow. "Make you leave?" he asks, as though the thought hadn't occurred to him till then. He removes his boot from Jaskier's chest. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because of... the baby?" Jaskier sits up, confused.

And Szymon barks out a laugh. "Oh Dandelion, you stupid boy. The baby isn't going to be a problem," he tells him. "I know a healer; she'll whip up a potion to take care of it."

"What?"

"Gods, boy," Szymon sighs. "You know what an abortion is, right?"

Jaskier's stomach drops. "No. No, I— I'm not aborting my baby," he says.

"Yes, you are," snaps Szymon. "Now stand up." Jaskier doesn't move. Szymon kicks him sharply. "I said stand up."

Jaskier vomits.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," says Szymon. He throws a towel at Jaskier. "Clean it up."

"I'm not g-getting an abortion," Jaskier says weakly, doing his best to wipe the vomit off the floor. Then he stands up, soiled towel in hand, and lifts his chin. "I'm not," he says, more firmly. "You can't make me." He takes a deep breath. "I'll leave. I will."

"One minute you're begging me to let you stay, the next you're threatening to leave. You really are stupid, aren't you?" says Szymon.

"I'm not stupid," Jaskier protests. "I'm not stupid and I'm not getting an abortion and I'm going to leave." And he fully intends to. He fully intends to walk out the door and never come back, to flee to the streets rather than drink Szymon's fucking abortion potion.

But Szymon grabs his arm. "What about your kid?" he asks. "Rian, or whatever."

"I'm taking him with me."

Szymon smiles cruelly. "I mean once you're on the street," he says. "Because come on, you think someone else will let you stay with them? You think _anyone_ other than me would put up with a baby who's constantly puking and shitting and crying all over the place? No. You'll be on the street. And what'll you do with him while you sell your ass— leave him in an alley? What'll you do with him when it's winter? How'll you keep him warm? And how'll you keep him fed, once you're so starved you stop making milk?"

Jaskier says nothing, and Szymon's smile grows. "Didn't think of any of that, did you? And let's say he somehow stays alive until the baby comes. What then?" He lets go of Jaskier's arm. "Tell you what," he says. "Go upstairs. Sleep on it. I'll visit my friend tonight, get the potion from her, but if you still want to leave come morning, you go right ahead. Just don't think for a fucking second that anyone else will take you in, or that I will ever, ever take you back."

***

Jaskier doesn't sleep for a long time. He sits in bed, sobbing, with Rian's tiny sleeping body pressed to his chest.

Because Szymon is right. He knows Szymon is right. Rian wouldn't last eight months on the streets, and even if he did, there's no way that Jaskier could keep _two_ babies alive, not through the winter.

He cries until he has no tears left, then he sets Rian down on the mattress, curls up, and presses his hands to his belly.

"I'm sorry, Baby," he chokes out. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry..."

And eventually, he falls asleep.

***

He sleeps until morning, when he wakes up to Rian's hungry cries.

"Shh," says Jaskier. "Shhh, honey." Mechanically, he gets out of bed, changes Rian's diaper, and lifts him to his chest.

He stares straight ahead as Rian nurses. He feels like he's floating. He tries to focus on the sensation of Rian's little sucking mouth, tries to maintain some grip on reality.

It doesn't quite work.

Time passes— maybe minutes, maybe hours. Eventually Jaskier becomes aware of tears, warm and salty, running down his cheeks, onto his lips, under his chin.

Rian is fast asleep in his arms.

Jaskier places him on the bed and kisses his tiny nose.

Then he goes downstairs.

***

"Well, well, well," says Szymon, when Jaskier approaches him, his head bowed. "What did you decide?"

"I want the potion," Jaskier says quietly.

Szymon grins. "What do you know," he says. "I've got it right here." He produces a small blue bottle from his pocket and holds it out.

Jaskier takes it from him, his fingers shaking violently. He feels nauseous, but manages not to vomit again.

Instead, he just turns and walks away, down the hallway, up the stairs, into his room, gripping the potion tightly with both hands.

He gets into bed.

"Hey, honey," he says softly, moving Rian to his lap. "Honey, listen, I— I know I said you'd be a good big brother. And I know you were excited about your little sibling. We both were. But— but we're not gonna get to meet them after all, okay? I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." He strokes Rian's hair, kisses his forehead, and Rian blinks awake. He smiles up at Jaskier, oblivious.

And Jaskier drinks the potion.

**Author's Note:**

> :( thanks for reading! comments would be really really appreciated!
> 
> also, subscribe to this [**series**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719994) so you don't miss more ficlets when i post them! :)


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